This is How Catholicism Was Created

Guy: i was recently thinking about taking two weeks off work to read Proust

i'm really not cut out for capitalism

me: it's true- neither of us are

I don't care enough about winning

I am happy to have some booze and something to read

also, a plane ticket

Guy: yeah i love just pottering around looking at stuff

drunkenly

it's this sort of conversation that leads to people becoming tramps

me: it's true. all we need now is a stick and a handkerchief to tie a bundle

and some train cars to ride around the country

me: i'd like to write a book in ten years that starts out "I had a promising career... and then I decided to become a tramp."

Guy: sounds like a blues record, can i sip on some thunderbird?

wahahaha

it would have to go in the opposite-to-self-help section:

the self-destruction section

me: haha! that would be great! It could be a book about how maybe self destruction is really the path to self help

it would mess with the lives of thousands of young people AND make us rich

what better?

Guy: it's perfect

you have to destroy the old you to find your true self

might as well have some fun while you do it

me: exactly

plus bonus section: how to drink and drive for fun and profit!

Guy: Heroin & Parenting: How your crippling, hellish addiction can equip your child with the tools to handle anything life throws at them

me: Being Poor and Having More Kids: How not being able to support your children and equip them to live in the modern world will allow them to develop alternative means of support, such as stealing and robbing, making them into well rounded and independent entrepreneurs

Guy: wahahaha

this genre just writes itself

me: it really does

which is why we should write it

Guy: we could be 'self-destruction gurus'

that's a job title

me: I was reading this "guide to happiness" that someone had left at my office, and it said that the most rewarding job was one that came easy to you, but people found valuable.

I think we have found that job

Guy: i always new my calling in life was to wreck other people.

for profit!

me: bwhhhahahahaaaa

it's the best plan ever

Guy: jesus would've approved, he was the king of self-destruction

and the jews

me: those jews are just full of self loathing. plus Jesus- he was totally about self destruction. Leave your families, friends, children and walk around the desert with me for some unfathomable reason, he said unto them

Guy: also, the only man in history to be nailed to a cross and still somehow come across as being smug

me: wwwwwwwwwwHAHAHHAHAHA

so true

We are going to hell now, you know that, right?

Guy: he's a perfect icon for the 'cause'

"yes i have truly destroyed myself, and all for you my brethren"

clever

me: yes, not only taking his own self destruction as a good thing, but claiming that all others are in debt to him for it!

we are really onto something now!

Guy: next time i get drunk and arrive late for work, i'll say i was doing it for mankind's sins

me: yes! and if I forget my mom's birthday I'll say it was to save the jews

Guy: entire new outlook on life springs into operation

me: hurray!

Ô Canada! Terre de nos aïeux

For all of you nay sayers, you can just shut it. I love me some Canada. It's nice. It's polite. They have excellent beer and people don't die just because they don't have insurance. I harp on about it, I am aware of this. But really, it's quite a feat.

Also, it's nice to have Canadian friends. They are just like us, except normally slightly better. Like this friend here:

This is C. We met her during the Tsunami. She has, at different points in her life, saved both Christmas and dinner. She later moved into our apartment in Japan. She is basically, as the Quebecois would say, "Le Totally F***ing Awesome". She can drive a boat.

She can also look mysterious in an arty-style picture while driving a boat. Well done! Oh, the practice she put in to that. Also, she is an amazing water skier. I, you will be shocked to hear, am not. What? I know. Your previous assumption that I was perfection in male form has been shattered. It will be ok. We will heal together.



I do look quite fine *in a boat*, I think we can all agree. Where is sexy J.? He had to take pictures this trip because my camera is broken.



These are C.'s sisters. They are hilarious. From left to right, we have J, ever smart and attractive, C, smart boat driving Le Awesome, S, who just graduated from Halifax and is full of hilarity, and M, who pulls off being both some sort of super intelligent being AND able to ice skate. The talent was non-stop, I tell you. We were eating a delicious feast of grilled things. It was raining outside, so it felt very drunk-swiss-family-robinson. Good times.



The LCBO is where Ontarians buy the liquor. I think in other provinces they buy it elsewhere, but it's hard to tell. Ontario is huge. It's cold in Canada, so people need a lot of liquor. I am apparently, for some unknown reason, demonstrating that we are experiencing a slight decline.



What's better than relaxing on a deck on a lake? Drinking Bloody Caesars on said deck.



Like I said, it was beautiful.




This is C's family dog, Jersey. When she said it's name was Jersey, I raised my eyebrow and asked "Like the cow?". C stared at me as if I had just pooped on the floor. "No, like the candy bar. She's brown. Like chocolate. It's not very original." No, but it is confusing for someone from a country where they don't have Jersey Milk Chocolate Bars. This dog is the most fun dog ever. We played swimming fetch, where by I throw something into the lake, and she goes to get it. Or, I jump into the lake and the dog tries to drown me/love me with her sharp, sharp claws.



That's right: Trees. Like it.



This is one of those things that doesn't make sense until you try it. Poutine is french fries with gravy and cheese curds melted on it. Heart attack in a paper carton? Oh yes, yes indeed. It was delicious. I would eat it again in a heart beat. Or lack of heart beat, which ever happens first.



It's OK to eat four pounds of grease if you are doing it outside.



For all of those who grew up in flat-square-state America, I am sure you will recognize the IGA, which was probably your hometown grocery store. It was kind of dusty and the only sold apples, potatoes and mac and cheese from a box, but you hung out in the parking lot being really cool in your jean jacket. Canada has IGA, too. This one sold avocados, duck, rabbit, and tins of foie gras. Will the wonders never cease? No. No they shan't.

So there it is: it was an awesome trip. Driving up there, I felt that maybe taking a six day trip that required twenty four total hours of driving was a mistake. But it was totally worth it. Plus Bonus!

Up Next: Moving this weekend! Next Friday: Last day of work!

When the Going Gets Tough

Yeah, things at work have been bad. Everyone has been laid off, no one is in a good mood, and best of all, management wants to know why everyone is being negative. It's not rocket surgery, people. That's why I am going to Canada. That, and because friends have a free cabin to sleep in! So take that work- you stay and simmer in your own juices, I will go play cards in front of a wood fire in a cabin on a lake and drink beer. Who is having the better time? Yes, I think we know the answer.

Back with stories and some pictures on Monday!

The Flu in Summer: Abomination, or Just Plain Wrong?

Sorry about the paucity of posting lately- I spent the last four days sweating and then shivering, being achy and then not being able to sleep, which seriously universe, is the most perverse form of sickness ever. But things are looking up, health wise anyway. Onwards towards victory! And to standing up again.

I seriously spent the entire weekend either on the bed, on the couch, or in the shower. It's all I could muster.

Trivia! Yeah, Jealous?

Last night we went to trivia at the Pour House, and we are freaking awesome. We won $20 of free beer (which is probably why we did worse in the second round). Go here for an awesome drawing of our kick-ass trivia knowing team. Go Team Icanhasanswers!

UPDATE: No scanned drawing as of yet... some sort of technical difficulty, no doubt. I'm sure technicians are working 'round the clock to solve this important problem.

Apartment, Found.

At long last, the contract is signed, the ink has dried, and a breathtaking sum of money has been wired to the landlord. We have a new place to live.

After looking at 32 apartments (that's right. Thirty-two. Not a typo.), one worked out. It's a one bedroom with a great kitchen only three blocks from the metro. It's a hundred dollars more than we wanted to spend, but considerably better than anything else that we saw.

What have I learned from looking at thirty-two apartments in our nation's capital? Oh, I've learned a lot. Get a drink.

(1) Real estate agents are full of shit. At all times. They speak a language that, while similar to standard English, is not really English.

(a) Cosy means so small you can cook a delicious omlette while simultaneously bathing.
(b) Charming means decrepit.
(c) One Bedroom sometimes means an apartment with one, separate room for sleeping, but it also means studio, efficiency, one big room for everything, or livingroom with attached closet that you could sleep in if you were 4'2. Studio and efficiency also have variable meanings, but often they mean closet with a stove and a toilet.
(d) You are going to love it means "this building is currently on fire".

(2) People who own property are incapable of telling the truth about their own buildings.
(3) "Convenient to Metro" indicates that, from the property in question, it would be convenient to be able to fly to the station, because otherwise you are looking at a half hour walk.
(4) People don't like it when you point out what can generously be called embellishments, but more honestly can be called lies:

Agent: "This apartment is a steal for 1400 dollars! It's metro adjacent and has alot of charm!"
Me: "It's in Anne Arundel County. And there is a racoon living in the ceiling."
Agent: "Well, the owners might not like to rent to a person with a negative attitude."
Me: Punching the agent in the head until their ears bled.

(5) You will hate finding an apartment more than almost any other thing you have to do in life.
(6) Karma does not apply to the real estate market. Mother Theresa would be hard pressed to find an affordable one bedroom in this town.
(7) This process will be easier if you just break in a window and squat in an unused condo. I know that's what I am going to do next time.




So, up next! Moving fun! Plus, a chance to explore our new neighborhood, Capitol Hill. Huzzah!

The Intern's Commute, Change to the Green Line at Gallery Place.

Oh, What, like Five Posts in One Day?

You know you love it.

TenPhen: Swoon.

I have a new restaurant boyfriend, and it is TenPhen. I mean, it’s not exclusive or anything, as I already have a date lined up with Acadiana on Wednesday, but whatever. Ten doesn’t need to know about that yet. It’s not like we went all the way.

I wish my digital camera wasn’t broken, so that I could taunt you with the delicious pictures of the amazing food that I ate, but you will have to just read the descriptions and drool. Drool I say! The meal started off with an amazing calamari salad- still warm, seared, tender squid was served in a bed of tender spinach leaves. I ordered a whole crispy fried fish, which arrived fragrant and blissfully crunchy with a fish sauce and palm sugar sauce in which to dunk my still sizzling manna from heaven. Dessert was a chocolate mousse so intense it made you pucker, the roasted banana whipped cream taking the edge off. Totally amazing. I love restaurant week.

Working Though the Burn

I still fail to see the wisdom of having workers stay in their positions after they haven been informed that their jobs have been eliminated. I just took a walk around my department. This is what was going on, cubicle-by-hideous, soul-crushing cubicle:

Reading Novel
Working on Resume
Absent
Internetting
Working on Resume
Absent
Absent
Empty cubicle, now sporting someone’s gym towel and an empty bag of Doritos
Reading Express
Internetting
Internetting
Absent
On Business Travel (I am guessing they are just reading magazines, albeit in a different time zone)
On Business Travel, (One of the few who did not get ‘realigned’, this one can’t read, so most likely looking at advertisements on airport walls for Hanes, thinking about where he can buy a clarinet)
Internetting
In process of leaving, two hours early
Temp- she is actually working
Writing cover letter
Craigslist.org
Emailing Mom
Stealing office supplies and stuffing them into her backpack
Absent

I’m not judging, I’m just asking the question: why won’t you just pay us to do this from home? We’d be happier, you’d lose a lot fewer office supplies. The same amount of work would get done. It’s win-win, people!

The Next Big Thing

Yeah, so, well, it’s hard to say this, cubicle. I know, we’ve had some great times. Remember when I was 21 and got my first real job working in a cubicle? Yeah, we were so close then. I used to keep delicious treats in your drawers. I hung pictures. You didn’t feel like the beige interior of some airless crypt. Not yet, anyway. But now, well, we’ve grown apart. I hate you now, Cube.

Also, office humor? Yeah, I am kind of done with you. No more laughing about the weather with that old guy from down the hall who always talks to me like we are friends but who I have never actually met. You, fluorescent lights humming away, maddeningly, as the air conditioning units whoosh, and all one can hear is other people typing and it makes you go all sallow and like you might just breathe out and never breathe back in? I am done with you, too.

Precious computer, you I will miss most of all. I mean, I know that I will still have you at home and all, but there is a certain bliss to reading page after quivering, electronic page of bad blogs and google searches, the New York Times and all those British papers that are so much fun to read, until one is hardly conscious. One continues reading until your only ability is to click a link and scroll silently down with that rolly-button-thing in the middle of the mouse, knowing that this is easier than watching the clock for quitting time. I love you, but you are bad for me. You make me numb.

I am going to be a cook. I hesitate to say chef, as that implies that I actually know something about running a kitchen. Maybe I can call myself that in a couple years. I was accepted to culinary school, and I am never going to work in a cubicle again. It’s pretty exciting. I can’t wait to start. It’s going to be hard work, and the hours are terrible. But for me, I need to do something different. Just once, once in my life, I want to have a job that I am excited about doing. I am trading in my 401(k) security for something more exciting and dangerous. I might regret this, but really, what decision doesn’t come with regrets? .

I’ve been aching to blog about the process leading up to this career change, but my old job would have been less than impressed had they found out about my ship-jumping plans. Do excuse, I beg. But now, who really cares. What are they going to do, fire me again? No, shan’t.

October 2, the big day. Wish me luck!

The Families that Finish Each Others’ Sentences are the Families that End Up Murder-Homicide Victims

Oh, family. My sister and her girlfriend just left. They were here for a week. I love my sister, she is great. But our apartment, it’s ever so small. None the less, we had a good time seeing DC United play, going to an awesome concert in Baltimore and kickin’ it around the Metro Area last week. Now my parents are staying until next Thursday. We’ve had a great time as well, but my family- oh man. How do I put this delicately? We are a lot alike. And being alike, we remind each other of our faults a lot. Of which we have none, of course! Hurray Family!

Update: Fighting the Man

So the investigators at the Office of Human Rights are really great. They are very supportive, but not hesitant to call a spade a spade. I told my story and the investigator said there was more than enough questionable behavior to begin an investigation. Next step: mandatory arbitration.

Uhhhh, mandatory what? I thought that some justice squad swooped in and did some poking around to see if these people really hate fags, or if someone else swooped in with better credit and whiter teeth. And if it turned out that they don’t like boys who kiss boys, then I thought they would get a fine, and maybe be required to wear baggy, pleated dockers for the rest of their lives. That, my dear readers, is wrong.

I am supposed to go into a room with them and an impartial arbitrator and ask them to give me “restitution”. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? What am I supposed to say? “Gimme back the twenty hours I have looked for a suitable apartment since viewing this one?” “Gimme a big cookie from the mall and a six pack of Coors?” “Gimme a bucket of fried chicken and a new apartment?”

The mind wobbles.

Uhhh yeah, can I get that with some justice? No? What about biscuits? Ok, I'll take the biscuits.